


Idiots

by GreyLiliy



Series: Life in Glass Houses [3]
Category: Transformers: Prime, Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: M/M, Shattered Glass, Spark Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8063815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: Dreadwing is an idiot in love, and honestly? So is Yellowjacket.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blueskyscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueskyscribe/gifts).



> Fanfic for the Life in Glass Houses Universe. "Yellowjacket" is the Shattered Glass Bumblebee.
> 
> I was re-reading some of my old fanfic to get back into a groove, and came across all my Life in Glass Houses fics. Fell in love with Dreadwing & Yellowjacket (and that entire SG AU, really) all over again. I’m such a sucker for tragic romance. I can’t help it. XD
> 
> Point is, they stuck out to me on the whole inspiration-front. In particular, the last chapter of “Yellowjacket’s Library of Undiluted Awesome” - it was one of the few Yellowjacket Fanfics that was more like an account of an actual event than a fantasy, and I felt like writing the “real” account of what our favorite, dead evil Autobot was trying to save. So if some of it seems familiar, that would be why. ;D

Yellowjacket transformed as soon as he passed the checkpoint at the dump entrance. Maggie had asked how he was doing as always after asking what he came to “dump off” (which was nothing; how much fun it was to get away with lies every time when she never checked the trunk), and his holo-avatar was more than happy to wave at her from the window.

This was his favorite dump in the city, because while there were a few humans milling about at the front and at one of the drop off points, it was near deserted. The huge piles of junk and garbage made it easy to hide, and best of all, the loud sounds of the river nearby did wonders to cover the sounds of large robots walking about.

Today on top of all that, the wind was heavy, and Yellowjacket could hear the seagulls loud overhead as they scavenged for scraps of leftover food. A garbage barge sounded in the distance as it traveled the river, tiny humans running about on its deck. They were fun to watch for a few moments, but that wasn’t what he was looking for out here.

He found Dreadwing behind one of the largest stacks of garbage in the dump, only a single blue wing poking out from the side.

“What the frag are you doing?” Yellowjacket asked, his broken vocalizer only cracking twice. He slid down the garbage hill, his door-wings flickering behind him as he stopped an inch from Dreadwing. “What’s with all this stuff?”

“Hey, there,” Dreadwing said, turning and smiling. He shifted the large piece of wood he held up, showing off the paper on it. There were marks all over it, making it look like a sketchy picture file. Dreadwing had a stylus in his hand, but Yellowjacket couldn’t see the datapad that went with it. Dreadwing smiled softly, leaning back into the garbage stack. “I was hoping you’d stop by today, Bee.”

Yellowjacket growled under his vocalizer. Telling Dreadwing his original designation had been a mistake. Yellowjacket was never getting overcharged around Dreadwing again. Especially not when they were fooling around. Yellowjacket talked too much; shared too much. 

Dreadwing made it so easy to talk to him. The worst part out of the whole thing, though, was there was no point in trying to correct Dreadwing about using that slagging name: Dreadwing was as likely to stop calling him “Bee” as Yellowjacket was to stop calling the big oaf “Blue.”

They were both sort of stubborn idiots that way.

Yellowjacket propped his hands on his hips and leaned over. “That didn’t answer my question, Blue.”

“They’re my drawing supplies,” Dreadwing said. He nodded his head toward the river. “I wanted to try some nature shots today. See?”

Dreadwing tapped the stylus against the page again and Yellowjacket focused. Now that he looked closer, he could see the picture was made of sketches that looked like the seagulls. There were also some quick pieces that were of grass strands, and water ripples. The entire page was filled with scribbles that seemed to have no rhyme or reason.

“Looks like a mess,” Yellowjacket said.

“They’re warm up sketches,” Dreadwing laughed. He looked to his other side, pulling up another pad that had been hidden by his large wings. Dreadwing opened a few pages and held the book over to Yellowjacket. “I’ve got better ones in there.”

The book was filled with pictures of Decepticons and Vehicons. All of the sketches were neat, while still holding a weird unfinished look to them that made the pictures sort of surreal. Yellowjacket hadn’t seen anything like it. He flipped through another page, sitting on the ground next to Dreadwing, leaning into his side. He went back to sketching as Yellowjacket kept browsing.

There was the mad decepticon doc (Yellowjacket didn’t care what Dreadwing said, all docs were off their rockers) in his room, and another of him and that big guy that Bulkhead was always complaining about. The head shrink Trauma got a corner to a page shared with the spider lady. There were a few sketches of those young jets that Yellowjacket normally had to fight in the field, and one of Starscream.

Yellowjacket flipped past the sketches of Megatron faster than he’d admit. He glanced at Dreadwing to make sure he hadn’t seen that tiny moment of weakness.

“You’ve got a lot of sketches of your brother in here, Blue,” Yellowjacket said aloud. Pics of Skyquake eating, sleeping, and looking happy. It was odd to see on a guy that Yellowjacket usually took pot shots at to see his face turn to rage. He snickered and knocked Dreadwing in the side. “Or are all these self portraits and you just try and pretend to be humble by saying they’re your twin?”

“He’s always around, which makes for an easy model,” Dreadwing said, chuckling lightly.

Yellowjacket flipped another page, to one where the mad doc and his beefy partner were sitting on the deck of the ship, stretched out and enjoying the sun together. They looked happy. Yellowjacket became hyper aware of where his plating touched Dreadwing’s, and his spark squirmed.

“You sure I should even be looking at these?” Yellowjacket asked, nearly shutting off his vocalizer as the words left. He cleared his throat with a hiss and a staticky whine before huffing. “I mean, if you wanna share intel about your base, who am I to complain? But I usually pegged you for smarter than that.”

Dreadwing gave Yellowjacket that look; the one he hated the absolute most. The look that meant Dreadwing felt like he had to pity Yellowjacket over something.

“They’re just pictures, Bee,” Dreadwing said. “You’ve seen all of them before in battle, so it’s not like I’m sharing anything new with you.”

But he was. Yellowjacket’s fingers tightened on the edge of the page. That big idiot was sharing something pretty important if he was letting Yellowjacket know that the stupid decepti-doc and his partner were more than friends. That sort of info got used against people.

It was why he worked so hard to keep these fragged meetings with Dreadwing a secret. That was a bigger deal than any Autobot-Decepticon back handed deals or underhanded trading.

Attachments got you killed.

And yet, Yellowjacket and Dreadwing were both still here. Still meeting at the slagging dump and trading human stories and collectables.

Yellowjacket flipped to the next page in the sketch book and saw it was blank. He tilted the book to the side and flipped through a few more until he got to the back and found a folded page tucked behind all the blank ones. A little page hidden away where hopefully no one would notice.

He made sure Dreadwing was focused on drawing his birds before tugging it out, making sure the other half of the book hid it.

His spark shuttered to a near stop when he got a good look at himself.

Yellowjacket had had a sinking feeling that if Dreadwing was going to hide any sketch, it’d be one of the Autobot he was fragging (as he should), but Yellowjacket hadn’t been expecting this. Dreadwing was always so sappy and warm, surely he would have projected that onto Yellowjacket: Draw him soft and cute. Maybe the way Dreadwing must pretend his berth partner to be like, just to justify the way he was sleeping with the enemy.

But it wasn’t.

The sketch of the proud Autobot was raw and open and wild. His canon was open and aimed near the chest of a Vechicon, wings flared out. There were trails of energon sketched in with a colored pen, dripping down his black paint. Dreadwing had even colored his eyes in bright red. Yellowjacket looked straight out of the battlefield and even he could tell how much slagging love and work had gone into this sketch compared to a few of the others. Even the fold line down the middle didn’t take away from it.

He slammed the sketchbook shut, his intakes shuttering with excited breath. That soft, stupid idiot did know what Yellowjacket was deep down; an Autobot. And he liked that part of Yellowjacket, too.

Dreadwing liked all of him.

He didn’t just like these stupid peaceful moments in the junkyards. Dreadwing didn’t just want Yellowjacket when he was playing nice. He didn’t pretend that other half of Yellowjacket didn’t exist when they were here. Dreadwing saw all of him.

Dreadwing watched him when they were on the field. That near-traitorous idiot really did fragging, maker-be-slagged love an Autobot.

And he thought he could keep it a secret, tucked away in a sketch he probably never thought Yellowjacket would notice.

“Let’s frag,” Yellowjacket said, dumping the sketchbook on top of the drawing board. He yanked Dreadwing back by the top of his armor collar, at the same time as he shoved the drawings out of the way. “Come on, Blue. We don’t have a lot of time and I’m not going to sit here being jealous of the birds.”

“Were my sketches that boring?” Dreadwing asked, half-laughing when Yellowjacket helped himself to Dreadwing’s lap.

“Quite the opposite,” Yellowjacket said. He revved his engine when Blue grabbed onto his hips and knocked their foreheads together. “You’re really good. Made me jealous those pictures got all your attention when it could have been focused on me.”

“Guess I’ll have to fix that,” Dreadwing said. He pushed off the ground, carrying Yellowjacket with him. He turned and pressed the the Autobot into the garbage stack, his plating grinding against an old car frame. Yellowjacket’s spark pulse picked up; he loved getting carried. It was the only benefit of being a smaller guy. “Can’t have you hunting down and shooting my sketchbook in a jealous rage.”

“Ha, the Decepticon thinks he can make jokes.” Yellowjacket pulled his knees up and knocked them into Dreadwing’s waist. “You should leave that to the pros.”

“Ow! Yellowjacket that hurt!” Dreadwing faked, exaggerating Yellowjacket’s tiny knock against him. “Quit that. I’m a wimp, remember?”

“I will when you get a move on,” Yellowjacket said. He could still see that slagging sketch in his optics and Dreadwing was holding him and he’d finally said his proper name again and Yellowjacket was ready to go. His spark pounded so hard against its casing, it was the only explanation for the madness that came sparking out of his vocalizer next. “Open up.”

“Huh?” Dreadwing paused, hovering over Yellowjacket.

Yellowjacket pushed up, until their chest pieces slammed together. He wrapped his arms around Dreadwing’s neck and wheezed with the sheer want slamming into every inch of him his spark could reach. “I want to open up this time. Want to really feel you.”

“You never want to take it that far,” Dreadwing said, his grip tightening. Yellowjacket could hear his intakes pick up speed. He wasn’t the only one who wanted it. “That was pretty much your big condition when we started doing this, remember? Wires only?”

“I can’t change my mind?” Yellowjacket asked, whining. Dreadwing wanted it. He wanted it. Why did he have to make a big deal about it? “Don’t you want to?”

“Yeah,” Dreadwing said, voice hoarse with need. “Yeah, but you—”

“Dreadwing,” Yellowjacket said, straining his vocalizer to get the syllables out as best he could. He winced at the unwanted sparking that followed it and begged Dreadwing to take the hint. “Don’t. Don’t make me say it.”

“Me too,” Dreadwing said, and it was as if the entire world went quiet around them. Their sparks pulsing in rhythm so close to each other was the only sound. Dreadwing hugged Yellowjacket so tight his frame might have bent. “Me, too.”

“Then stop being a sap and open up,” Yellowjacket said, laughing. He knocked their cheeks together. “Time’s wasting.”

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

Yellowjacket yelped when Dreadwing tugged him higher, slamming his back into the junk again at a new ankle, so that more of the heap could hold him up while Dreadwing fumbled with Yellowjacket’s chest plates with his fat fingers. Yellowjacket snickered, his thinner ones helping themselves to the latches on Dreadwing’s plate, opening it faster. 

“Beat you,” Yellowjacket said, tugging the piece open. He couldn’t stop his fingers from digging in and tugging on a piece of conduit near the spark casing. “Looks like I get to go first.”

“You are a brat,” Dreadwing said. Yellowjacket revved his engine, pushing up and dropping his fingers lower until he could tap the spark casing itself. Dreadwing’s intakes wheezed and Yellowjacket giggled. Dreadwing popped Yellowjacket’s chest open and laughed. “Double brat.”

The cold air hit Yellowjacket’s spark casing like a slap to the face and he loved it. Normally. He didn’t want to feel cold right now. Not with that new heat just under his fingertips. Yellowjacket pulled his hand back and moved so they could push their chests together. It was so close.

Dreadwing’s hold trembled. He tugged Yellowjacket closer, fingers gripping into the back of Yellowjacket’s thighs. “You sure?”

“If you don’t connect in the next couple of seconds, I’m going to rip your wings off, Blue,” Yellowjacket said, pushing closer and latching onto the top of Dreadwing’s wings as proof of statement. He wanted to climb inside Dreadwing and if that wasn’t a new feeling, he didn’t know what was. “I already said yes like three times!”

His Seeker answered with a click of his spark casing and a roar Yellowjacket had only heard once on the battlefield.

Their sparks connected and oh—oh, Frag. Yellowjacket could feel it. He could feel all of Dreadwing and he could feel him and it was good. Really good. Yellowjacket returned in kind as best as he could. He needed to get it across to Dreadwing how he felt, even if he could never say it.

Dreadwing understood; Yellowjacket could feel it. His spark met against Yellowjackets and their intakes and systems fell into a heated rush. The Autobot whined, wanting to disappear into Dreadwing forever and keep this all to himself and never share it and how was it possible to feel like this?

It had never felt this amazing with Prime.

Dreadwing stilled for a second, and Yellowjacket felt terror like he hadn’t since the moment he thought Prime suspected what he was sneaking out of the base all the time for. He hadn’t, he hadn’t picked up on that little slip had he? It wasn’t like Yellowjacket could ever get Dreadwing to understand the Prime thing. That was. You didn’t tell Prime no. To anything. And it wasn’t bad but Dreadwing wouldn’t understand and he might—he might leave and—

“Yellowjacket,” Dreadwing said, spark pulsing harder and fingers digging so hard into plating they bent it. His voice sounded angry, and his spark heated. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice sounded so possessive and so angry that for half a tick, Yellowjacket forgot Dreadwing was a Decepticon.

And by the Allspark if that wasn’t a great distraction.

“Dreadwing.” Yellowjacket squeezed his arms tight around his Seeker, returning every dent in kind. “You can get rougher. I can take it.”

“Can’t get too rough,” Dreadwing said, laughing. “You’re tiny and I’d hate to crush you.”

“Like you could crush anything,” Yellowjacket said, kicking him in the side. “Don’t forget who the Autobot is here.”

“As if I could,” Dreadwing said, slamming them both so hard into the junk pile the stack of it fell over on the side in a heap. It was a miracle no one had come to check out what was going on, but who were they to question good luck? Dreadwing kissed Yellowjacket’s neck, mumbling his name into it. “

From then on out, it was just heat and pleasure. They took from each other and gave from each other and Yellowjacket was pretty sure there was more of Dreadwing’s spark powering his body than his own at this point and Yellowjacket felt like he was drowning.

It was amazing.

The final overload came too quick for both of them, leaving the heaving Autobot and Decepticon exhausted in the dirt. Somehow they managed to close their spark casing and chest plates without damaging anything, and they collapsed in a heap.

Yellowjacket whined in satisfaction as he settled on Dreadwing’s chest, crossing his arms to cover up the Decepticon logo. He listened to the bigger mech’s systems cool under the plating, loving the way the gears shifted and moved.

He felt so good and so content that there were a million things Yellowjacket wanted to say, but none of them actually made it out. Instead he said, “While I’ll admit you were pretty awesome there, don’t forget that you really are still a wimp. That hasn’t changed.”

“So you keep telling me,” Dreadwing said, everything in his voice not believing Yellowjacket for a second. He rolled to the side, taking the Autobot with him in his arms until they were side by side on the ground. He looked sated and tired, drawing pictures in the dirt with his fingers just above Yellowjacket’s head. “So I guess it must be true.”

“Makes me wonder how you’ve survived this long,” Yellowjacket said. He’d seen it all now. Dreadwing’s reluctance to fire on the battlefield. His soft spot for the enemy, even as he remained disgustingly loyal. Yellowjacket knocked his fist into Dreadwing’s chest, dragging the knuckle down it. “You’ve got no sense of self preservation, Blue.”

“I guess I’m just lucky,” Dreadwing said. He tapped his head against Yellowjacket’s before looking up at the junk they’d displaced. He spotted an old human tv and dragged it down to his chest. Yellowjacket played with the knobs for a moment before Dreadwing subspaced it away. The lazy distraction did wonders to lighten Dreadwing’s mood. “Why are you bringing it up now? Planning to shoot me or something?"

That was their inside joke. Yellowjacket would sneak up on Dreadwing and tackle him, canon roaring. It was just something he’d say whenever the war would come up in topic. It was a half-dare, half reminder to both of them that they were on different sides no matter how they felt about. Like Dreadwing was just waiting for the day Yellowjacket would say “yes” and be done with it.

He had this feeling Dreadwing would just sit there and take it, too. He’d never shoot back and Yellowjacket sort of hated that about the big idiot.

“Maybe I am this time,” Yellowjacket said. It would only make sense. Everything else about today had been different. Why should this have been an exception? “Nothing tops off a great frag like killing someone after. It’s a rush after a rush, and we both know you’re a big enough target. Even a vehicon could hit you.”

“You could,” Dreadwing said. He moved his hand to Yellowjacket’s side, and his fingers sat there, lightly petting the plating. “But then who’d you talk to?”

“I don’t know,” Yellowjacket said. He turned toward Dreadwing and cuddled into his plating, draining as much warmth from the larger body as he could get. It reminded him a little bit of when he’d snuggle with Prime afterwards. But just like the interfacing, they didn’t even compare. And that terrified Yellowjacket in a whole new way. He wrapped his arms around Dreadwing and squeezed. “Guess that means I’ll have to shoot you some other day when I figure that out.”

Dreadwing wasn’t the only one keeping secrets, but at least Yellowjacket kept his locked up in his spark instead of drawn out on paper.

“Then I’ll make sure no one beats you to it and be sure to stick around until then,” Dreadwing said. He squeezed Yellowjacket tighter to himself. He yawned and sounded far away as he mumbled, “Don’t you worry about it.”

“You’re an idiot, Blue.”

He didn’t respond, and Yellowjacket looked up. He snorted and climbed out of Dreadwing’s arms. The big oaf had fallen into recharge. Yellowjacket tapped him a few times on the cheek before he stretched out his arms and legs.

Yellowjacket walked over to the discarded sketchpad and picked up the stylus and paper. He pulled a blank sheet out of the sketch book and wrote a quick note that said, “Next time, let’s do that again.”

He put the sketch book in Dreadwing’s arms where he’d just been, and looked around the yard to make sure no humans had heard anything. The barge in the distance still sounded loudly, and the birds were as chatty as ever. This really was a great place to meet.

Transforming, Yellowjacket hit the road again, heading out of the junkyard. His holo-form waved to Maggie and he was back out into the world.

One day, he really was going to have to shoot Dreadwing. But until then, he was going to keep this. Yellowjacket was going to keep that idiot Seeker for as long as he could.


End file.
